by Siobhan Muir
“She has pushed the demon’s poison out of your body and given you the sustenance of her blood to heal you. You may have taken too much.”
Jonarrion’s stomach sank. She’d offered him her blood?
He searched her body for marks where he’d drawn her blood, but he saw nothing until her arm flopped into view and the puckered white-edged slit on her wrist seared his sight.
Holy Goddess, the source of the elixir is Isabelle!
Had he taken too much from her? He dropped his head against her breast, ignoring the disapproving sound from the Fae male, and listened intently to her heartbeat.
At first he heard nothing. His own heartbeat thundered in his ears, and he couldn’t differentiate between the two.
Calm down, you fool.
Jonarrion inhaled slowly, letting his breath out as a slow, draconic hiss, and forced his panic to go with it. His heart slowed, and he heard hers, beating in a measured rhythm, strong and steady. Relief flooded through him in a rush, making him light-headed for a moment.
“She will be fine.”
The Fae snorted with derision. “Perhaps. It all depends upon what you do now, Dragon.”
Jonarrion’s canines elongated in his mouth, and he resisted the urge to bare them at the arrogant prick. This was Isabelle’s birth father.
Nay, not father. No more than a cum donor.
“Careful, Elf.” He growled as he cradled Isabelle against his chest. “You may have lain with Isabelle’s mother, but that doesn’t make you her father.”
The Fae’s lips tightened, and fury flashed across his face, but it didn’t eclipse the fear in his eyes.
“I am her blood father, and therefore I have some care as to what happens to her.” The elf drew himself up to his full height. “She’s bound to you by virtue of the very blood she got from me, and I find it detestable that she’s chosen a dragon, of all creatures.”
Unrelenting joy shot through Jonarrion’s veins, but he kept his expression impassive. “What do you find most repulsive? That she chose a dragon? Or that she didn’t choose an elf?”
“I find it repulsive she chose to bind herself to a dragon who has no more care for her than for any female he uses for pleasure.” Icy disdain oozed from the elf’s very pores.
Jonarrion snarled and rolled to his feet, careful not to drop Isabelle.
“That’s rich coming from you! How much did you care for her mother when you swived her and left her with your illegitimate child?” He bared his canines in fury at the Fae male. “Slumming, I’ve heard it called, and you’re the master of it. Isabelle offered me her virginity to save her from becoming a sacrifice for human ignorance.”
“And you took it!”
“I did her a favor out of respect!”
The elf snorted with derision. “And it was such a hardship.”
Jonarrion shook his head. “Never with her.” He stared the male down. “She’s mine, now, Elf. And she has the protection of my family as my True Mate.”
“True Mate?” the Fae scoffed, his lip curling.
“I don’t doubt you have no concept of True Mates, but understand Isabelle is mine, and all your interference ends here.” Jonarrion wrapped her closer in his arms and gave the Fae one parting glance. “Thank you for helping her heal me.”
Then he allowed his body to shift shape into his true form, his precious bundle held in his great fore-claws, and leapt into the rainy sky, leaving the elf staring after him beneath the beats of his leathery wings.
* * * *
Jonarrion laid Isabelle down on a bed of soft, dry, fragrant needles and retreated to shift into his human form. While the ruins of the old castle hidden by the young forest could take his natural size, his color would show between the trees to anyone who knew what to look for. When he stood upon two feet again, he returned to the overhang of stone from a ruined floor, grateful it kept the rain from soaking his lady. He paused at the edge of their rough camp, the memories of the evening flooding his mind as he took in her graceful shape.
Gathering up all their belongings from the little cave had been a comedy of errors. First Jonarrion had a handful of unconscious woman and refused to set her down for fear she’d get pneumonia from the cold and wet. He’d swung his great head back and forth in indecision before he decided she wouldn’t be there long enough to get sick and consoled himself with the reminder that she wore his plaid.
When he’d reached into the cave to collect their things, only his arm would fit. He spent several minutes growling and groping for the pile of items he could only see when he pulled his arm back. He completely destroyed the careful collection Isabelle had made, and spent several more minutes picking up each item individually.
He’d congratulated himself on getting everything and wrapping it all carefully around his woman. He’d been all set to leave when he remembered his sword, still lying on the pockmarked floor of the demon’s lair.
So much for a dramatic exit when he had to go back for his weapon.
He’d stood there at the cave mouth for several minutes, vacillating between taking Isabelle somewhere safe, or going back for his weapon while they remained close. Collecting the sword immediately won out, but he’d felt like a prize idiot. He’d found the blade where they’d left it, and the elf had disappeared.
Thank the Goddess!
Jonarrion was also tremendously grateful Isabelle had slept through all of it. Not much of a hero if he couldn’t remember to take his own sword with him when he dramatically left the field. He’d paused only long enough to engulf the entire lair in blinding dragonfyre, charring the demon’s body to nothing more than ash, and cleansing the stone of its hideous poison.
Jonarrion unconsciously shook his head, and a cold drop of water slid down his back. He jumped, shaking himself into the present where his lady needed a fire to stay warm. He’d prefer to warm her with his own fire, but despite his cock’s enthusiastic agreement, he forced his body to search for dry kindling for a campfire. Nothing was dry, and he grumbled about damned spring weather, but scraped a hole in the floor of the clearing and lined it with rocks.
He shifted once more, just long enough to set the wet branches ablaze, then settled down beside his lady with his plaid wrapped around him. He checked Isabelle’s breathing as he tucked her cloak beneath her and her quilt around her to keep out the chill. The cut on her wrist had already closed, and relief uncoiled the tension straining his shoulders.
She bound herself to me.
The words echoed in his head, leaving wonder and amazement in their wake. Why? She’d seen him as a dragon, reinforcing his insistence of his true nature, but what would make her seal her fate to his own? They were different species!
And yet you are determined to take her as your True Mate.
Well, yes, but he knew she was his True Mate. He suspected she didn’t have the same kind of certainty.
Jonarrion’s gaze rested on the rise and fall of her ample bosom, and his cock hardened beneath his braies. She never failed to arouse him, but the sensations comprised more than simple arousal. His heart softened, and he wanted to gather her against his chest just to make certain she lay safe and whole.
He also wanted to thank her for her help, demand what in Hellwinds she’d been thinking coming so close to the demon, and make tender love to her.
Please wake, my love. Please wake soon.
* * * *
The scents of wood, smoke, and pine pitch dragged Isabelle’s awareness out from the healing dark. Burning branches popped and crackled in a fire’s wrath while rain made it hiss in frustration. Isabelle slowly opened her eyes and tried to make out her surroundings.
She lay wrapped in her quilt on a pine-needle bed beneath the remnants of some sort of stone building. A fire licked hungrily at wet wood just a few feet from her, and the heat of the flames had dried her cloak, the cloth hot to the touch. She shifted a little to relieve her discomfort and met a pair of lupine-blue eyes beneath the hood of woolen plaid.
“Jon?” she whispered.
Thank all that’s holy he survived!
“Yes, Belle, I survived. Thanks to you.”
Had she spoken aloud? She swallowed and tried to say something more, but her throat closed, and a strangled croak barely slid past the noise of the fire.
“Here, love, drink some water.” Jon knelt in front of her with a waterskin, and she tried to fit it to her lips, but her hands shook too much. “Easy. Take it slow. I’ll hold it.”
The cool liquid slid down Isabelle’s parched throat, and relief followed. It tasted divine, and she reveled in the fresh flavor her body craved.
“Thank you.” She nodded as he pulled the skin away.
Jon laid a soft kiss on her forehead, and she shivered with pleasure. His action spoke with more tenderness than she’d ever experienced, and tears started in her eyes.
“Don’t cry, love.” He wiped an escaping drop of water and settled his weight beside her on the needle bed. “How are you feeling? Are you hungry?”
Isabelle opened her mouth to answer, but her stomach growled right on cue, and he chuckled.
“There’s still some rabbit left from this morning.”
Surprisingly, cold rabbit meat sounded delectable, and her mouth watered. That was odd. She’d never been a fan of cold meat before. When he handed her the greasy, congealed bits of rabbit from the bakery cloth, she dove in hungrily, reveling in the taste and texture of the cooked flesh.
Neither of them spoke for long minutes as Isabelle ate the food, enjoying it more than she’d ever enjoyed anything before.
Except, perhaps, Jon’s loving.
The thought made her blush, but the light of the fire painted her body with a red glow, and she prayed he wouldn’t see it. She kept her attention on her food to avoid his gaze, even licking the grease off her fingers to be sure she’d consumed all of it. Jon handed her the waterskin again, and she slaked her thirst, washing away the somewhat gamey aftertaste.
“Thank you.”
Jon chuckled. “You’re welcome.”
“Where are we?”
“It is an old place, to be sure. My father brought me here when I was just a lad, me and my brothers.” He raised his gaze to scan the remnants of the stone structure. “There was more of it then, though the humans who lived here had abandoned it a few years before.”
He dropped his head to look back at her through the light, and Isabelle swore she detected a faint glow around him. Oddly shaped and taller, the radiance pulsed with energy, and she began to pick out a distinct form.
“You look like a dragon,” she blurted, then snapped her mouth shut with chagrin when he tipped his head curiously.
Isabelle bit her lip and grimaced. “Well, o’ course you do, but I meant now, even while you wear the look of a man.”
“You can see the dragon essence in me?”
“Aye, it’s right there, glowing about you like a mist.” She waved her hand unsteadily at him, her energy still low.
Instead of wary reserve, Jon grinned at her and stocked up the fire before settling his body beside hers on the bed of needles.
“I’m glad you can see it.”
She didn’t know what to say to that, so she kept silent.
“Did your Fae father tell you what it meant to offer me your blood?”
Isabelle’s memories of the demon and Jon’s near-death flooded back into her mind’s eye, the gut-wrenching fear surging through her. She clenched her jaws and shook her head, more to shake the thoughts loose than to indicate her ignorance.
“By giving me your blood, you bound yourself to me for the rest of the days granted to you.” Jon reached out and took one of her tightly clenched fists. She jumped at his touch and tried to relax. “From now on, you will know when I suffer or need help. I’ll always know where you are, be able to sense you and smell you. Why did you willingly bind yourself to me?”
Isabelle sat silently, sifting through the words he’d said and letting her emotions fly around her head like shooting stars. Why did she offer him her blood?
She recalled the moments when she’d thought he’d left her for good, lying on the cold, wet stone in the aftermath of the battle with the demon. When his breath had left him, she’d thought her soul had gone, too. Her world had collapsed in the onslaught of grief and pain overwhelming her. She’d wanted to curl up into a ball and go with him.
She’d never experienced such a connection to another person before.
Except Mama.
Watching Jon leave had been as excruciating as watching her mother die. Even now, after a decade of days, the pain of her mother’s loss still pricked her. The same debilitating sorrow had slammed into her when she’d thought Jon dead.
Is that love, then? And do I feel it now, too?
She turned her head to rest her gaze on the handsome man beside her and let the questions settle into her bones. The answers fit over her like a tailored coat, snug in just the right places, comfortable and warm. Love. She’d fallen in love with a dragon.
“Because I love you.”
Her voice was rusty, but when she met Jon’s brilliant blue eyes, she realized it didn’t matter. Joy emanated off of him in waves. Each pulse washed over her and enveloped her with more heat than the fire.
“I couldn’t let you die.” She cleared her throat to make her voice stronger. “I had the power to save you from that hideous creature, and I couldn’t sit there and do nothing. Not if it meant losing you forever.”
Jon raised an eyebrow. “So it was just a kindness you’d show to anyone?”
“Nay!” She wrinkled her brow in concentration. How could she explain? “Losing you…was like losing a piece o’ myself. A special piece, the best piece. It felt like I had been hollowed out like the pumpkins at Samhain and all the best bits o’ me taken away. There was nothing to fill me up but sorrow and despair.”
Isabelle looked up from the fire and stared at Jon’s face. She loved the way the light caressed the masculine planes molding his expression of quiet expectancy. She wanted him, his gaze, his smile, his touches, and even his simple presence in a room with her. The idea of living without him nearby made her stomach curdle.
Only the idea that he didn’t share her feelings made her feel worse.
Don’t be a scared little rabbit, Isabelle! You’re bound to a dragon now.
The no-nonsense voice restored her courage, and she squared her shoulders despite the uncertainty. She offered him her blood to keep him alive because of her own feelings. She loved him, so she’d make the best of it. Whether he liked it or not, she’d be connected to him, and it would be enough.
Or that was what she told herself.
“Isabelle.” Jon’s voice held humor and warmth. “Look at me.”
Had she stopped? Dragging her attention away from the flickering fire once more, she faced him and prepared for whatever he had to say.
“Thank you.”
Puzzlement flashed through her and must have shown on her face.
“For your gift of life and healing.” He paused and grasped one of her hands, pulling it to his lips. He kissed her knuckles, and his moustache tickled her skin. “And thank you for your love.”
“You’re welcome.”
Jon chuckled and cocked his head to one side. “You sound resigned.”
“What am I supposed to say to you?” Isabelle raised her eyebrow. “‘I love you, now begone?’” She tried to withdraw her hand, but he held tight. She narrowed her eyes. “Has it occurred to you, Jon, that I don’t ken how you feel about me? Not really. You asked me to be your wife for all time, but ‘twas afore now, when you didn’t have me without trying.” She shrugged helplessly. “I have bound myself to you. What’s done is done.”
“Bloody hell, woman!”
Jon grabbed her shoulders and lifted her until she knelt in front of him, his nose almost pressed to hers.
“I’m grateful for everything you’ve given to me. Can’t you hear that?”
&nbs
p; “I don’t want your gratitude. I want your love!”
The fierce look in his eyes softened, and before Isabelle could take back her words, he’d covered her lips with his own, offering her the sweetest kiss. Her arousal leapt to the fore, carried by an odd sensation of certainty and knowledge of this male, this touch. Her worries and fears melted away in the heat of his caress, and she gave herself over to him.
Jon growled low in his throat, and the kiss turned from tender to demanding. His hands cradled her head, the fingers spearing through her disheveled hair as he consumed her mouth with his tongue and lips. Isabelle could barely breathe when he pulled back and rested his forehead against hers.
“Belle, I’ve loved you from the moment you asked me to save you from the ‘dragon.’” He laughed, and it warmed her all the way to the core. “I had no words to tell you that you were giving yourself to the dragon, but I loved your courage and willingness to find a way out of your troubles. You’re a brave and strong woman, Belle, and you have my love, heart, and soul in your keeping already.”
Tears choked her throat, but she smirked. “There now, was that so hard?”
He rumbled a growl. “Bloody stubborn woman.”
She laughed, and he pushed her gently down onto the bed of needles, peeling apart the warm quilt. She shivered in the cool air, and he rolled his weight on top of her. The heat of his body seeped through their clothing and banished the damp cold of the spring night. Need and desire flared inside her as he palmed one of her breasts through the chemise above her cincher. A little gasp left her throat as she stared up into his lupine eyes, seeing the arousal tightening his expression.
“My only question, my dearest Belle, is if you regret your blood offering. If you regret your love for me. Do you?”
Did she? Did she regret being bound to this handsome dragon male who made her nipples harden and her heart pound each time she looked at him?
“Nay, not if you wish to be with me for always.” She rocked her hips, grinding her mound against the hard ridge of his cock. He groaned and nuzzled the skin below her ear.
“Oh, sa cherro, my request still stands.” He squeezed her breast and nipped her shoulder. “I wish you to become my wife for all time. Will you have me as your husband?”
